The Difference Between Good and Bad Men
by Janet-Mufasa
Summary: Prince Lorenz isn't the smartest or most talented prince of the Southern Isles, but Greta didn't care. She still loved him. However, Hans and some other brothers of his have already set their sights on her. Oneshot, connected to "We the Spiritless". Oc x Hans' Brother(s)


I only ever loved a single man in my whole life, when others believed he was not worth my time.

He was not great, or heroic, or smart or advanced in any particular skill save for table manners and small talk.

A simple man, but a sweet one.

"Prince Lorenz, your tea is ready." I softly informed him, as I set down the small plate and cup before the ever day dreaming prince.

He didn't register my comment for a moment but kept staring at me with a confused expression. His eyes darted to the cup and then to me again, and then suddenly it clicked. I could tell, by the way he flashed me a grin and a cheesy laugh through the teeth, as he himself sometimes marvelled at how forgetful and silly he could be.

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry Gruda, I forgot ," he replied, mistaking my name again.

My name is Greta, but that's not too important. I gently reminded him, not out of irritation or with an expression of impatience, but because to hear my name on his adorable cherry coloured lips was like a beautiful golden harp, enchanting and entrancing me.

"You know, I never get that right somehow. But it doesn't matter, you always forgive me." He responded, tugging at the bow in my apron before I could leave.

I turned to the side and refrained from smiling, as the other servants thought I was 'unprofessional' when I gave in to my 'girly urges'.

How can I resist him though, as he shoots me those pleading eyes, and a half grin, as he jerks his head to the seat next to him.

I surrendered a smile and then lifted his hand carefully from my apron, revelling in the touch of our hands, and the warmth of it, and how dry they were.

I must say, the other princes all would like to think they've got a piece of me... And every other female servant for that matter... But their hands are so sweaty, or too gnarled and calloused, and some clearly must chew their nails... And...

I'm, rambling...

Anyway, his were perfect. For a moment I didn't notice how tightly he'd clasped onto my hand before I could pull it away again.

He took his other hand and brought it up to our linked ones, and he caressed the top of my hands with his fingertips, gliding them up my wrist and then down again, seemingly fascinated by my freckled skin.

He touched a slightly bumpy crescent along the side of my wrist and his expression hardened.

My heart jolted and he squeezed my hand, looking up at me, locking his cobalt blue eyes with mine and he pursed his lips, and expression that read, 'Who did this to you.'

I breathed in and sighed, "Marcus got a little carried away." I uttered with a tender and cautious silence, almost fearing that the said prince might be near.

He loosened his grip and then checking for others in the room he kissed my wrist, the teeth marks simmering under the heat of it, and he slowly drew back, just to drop another one onto the same spot, flicking it with his tongue and then landing a soft, final peck on it before releasing my hand.

"I hate the way they treat you Hilda." He stated grimly.

"Greta." He corrected himself, "They are... Bad men."

He looked away and took a sip from his now cooler tea, and spoke no longer with me. He tried to wrap his mind around the concept of my predicament but none of his pondering ever proved to be fruitful. I was glad that he didn't have enough experience with the darker side of life, and its horrors.

His pure, and gentle mind need not be tainted with just how 'bad' his brothers could be to me.

I sighed again and hastily made my way out of the room, not wishing to stay there and linger, imagining fanciful little dreams of him and me, together and alone, with no external relationships or infidelity. Maybe we could run away, and find a new life on a farm or in the city, and it could work, and he'd stay home, until we had children and I'd retire to look after them all.

Simple though he may be, he has a clear distinction between right and wrong, and he never failed to follow the rules. He was a good man, and he tried earnestly to do his best, and he was so romantic and sweet. He's what I really wanted when I dreamed of someday marrying a prince.

He's everything I thought Hans would be. It's a shame I hadn't met Lorenz first, because perhaps then I would be subject to the indecency of being sold to his brothers whenever they should so please to have their way with me.

And like the horrible woman I must be, I just lie down and take it, but only because I must.

I got hired by Hans' reccomendation and I started as a scullery maid, and worked my way up eventually. He was so kind and sweet, but they don't call him the black sheep for nothing.

As soon as I surrendered to him, that one night when he took me out behind the willows in the courtyard and I let him take me on the ground there, under the star light... He became so cruel.

He began to bully me into more, and he would often threaten to blackmail me with it, and was the one who began the rumours with the other maids about how flirtatious and promiscuous I apparently was.

Then, his brother Marcus, and that war crazy Ludwig got in on me, and he was taking payments from them to keep his silence about it, and in return they'd take me as payment to keep their silence about him.

I suppose I'm more than a servant, you could say. I'm their pet...their toy. But their was one man with whom I was truly smitten.

"Bertha?" I heard a whisper, as I tied my night dress up. I faltered and froze, my ears straining to ear past the sqeauling silence..

"I mean, Greta...I meant that..." I heard. My body flushed and I wept, turning to the door and looking for where the voice was coming from.

I held my breath, and listened again, shuffling towards the door, and my eyes darted along the other beds, filled with other maids who seemingly were asleep.

The suddenly an arm snaked its way around my waist and I silently yelped, but a smooth, dry hand flew up to my lips... And he placed one finger against them...

I shakily breathed in and he kissed my neck, pulling me back and into his body, and there we stood for so long.

He let go and then grasped my hand firmly, and led me out of the sleeping quarters.

I followed him, hastily but gingerly as we fled the scene, and like ghostly dancers we snuck past the rooms of the 'Bad Men' which is how he referred to the younger royals.

And he skidded to a halt before his. He looked at me, and his eyes still shone in that deep colour, even in the moonlight, and he opened the door.

I almost protested, trying to run away, fearing the worst. The only time a prince of these forsaken isles had ever beckoned me to his room, he usually turned into a ferocious, violent beast, who thrashed at me and clawed into my skin, and left me raw and sore for hours.

But he embraced me in one huge, sweeping motion and shushed me, calmly, patting my stomach and breathing into my ear, "I'm not a bad man. I want you to know what a good man feels like... And I want to feel you..."

He took my hands in his and then pulled them away from my body, and he added, with an air of desperation and hunger I'd longed to hear on his lips, "Greta, I love you. They don't. Come with me, and I'll never let them hurt you again, please, I don't understand. Why you let them do this...there is no reason that I can think...but that you only ever knew how to love someone who hates you."

He pulled me by one hand to his door again as he continued, "but now I can show you how to love someone who loves you too. And then maybe you won't go with them anymore, and they'll stop hurting you...because you'll be mine..."

He explained his theory to me, thinking that if we became one that they would not interfere, and they have some kind of human decency to respect our wishes. I cried, because I knew that they would not, and yet he was so convinced.

I let him undress me, and we silently regarded each other, fondly, slowly, and then he kissed me, deeply, pressing himself into me, and he hummed with excitement , surely having dreamed of this moment as much as I have.

I always knew how to love a good man, but truly I never knew what it felt like. He rode into me slowly, rocking and grinding, and massaging my body with his smooth, dry hands, and he kissed me still, by the open window, under the starlight.

I sighed, melodically, at his touch and I moaned as he brought me to a sudden and final climax, after what felt like an hour of pulsing, throbbing, torture. And for once, it was not a painful torture.

He never bit me as we kisses, or smashed his hips in between my legs, or dug his fingers into my skin, and he didn't pull my hair.

He pressed with more pressure into me and made me moan again. His haunting blue eyes staring through me and marvelling at the wonder and pleasure as he came inside me, tears running down from his eyes and dropping onto my face, and neck.

He hissed and and winced at the painful tickle that I too shared as he finished and he dropped gently onto me. He was shuddering, as the chill of the night cooled our hot and wet bodies, and he lazily, sleepily sloppily caressed my shoulder with his lip and he kissed me to sleep.

"Now your mine. They can't have you. They'll never take you from me, or else I would die." He said.

"And so might you...Greta." He got up off me and pulled me into his side, "Because I know you never _loved_ any other man but me. Not truly." He mumbled.

I waited for him to fully fall asleep before I quickly dressed and fled the room, not wanting the other servants to discover me in such a way. I covered him with a blanket and before I knew it I was in my own, hard bed, and I bitterly wept, wanting so dearly to have fallen asleep in his arms that way.

But my dreams were salvation for my longing and despair. Dreams where we lived together and we ran away... He was only eighth in line, so it isn't like anyone would care if he was missing. He had no place here, much like his other brothers, but he had a place with me. He had earned it.

XxXxXxX

Morning came, and I was all a flutter, dressing myself mechanically and I could still not understand how I could be so not-sore and not-stiff after a night of...making love. For free...for real...with a good man...

A dead man.

I had been assigned to take the laundry of the princes and king, and upon reaching Lorenz, I was the first to see him.

He was lying there, peacefully, as though in sleep, and his bed was made, as though he had awoken to dress and then make it...

But his open, deep, piercing blue eyes had lost their glow, and intensity as from the flower like blood blotted sheets, and his soaked still untucked shirt he laid there and stared at me.

I fell and screamed, wishing I too could die, for his lazily placed and unfocused gaze, played a scene of indescribable fear, and betrayal. He must have seen the attacker coming, as he dressed and made hi bed...must have thought of me as he was littered with stabs, and was thrown onto his bed for me to find.

"It truly is a shame..." I heard a voice, and I was petrified. "He truly was a good man, wasn't he?"

I turned to see the crowd I had garnered and at the side I locked gazes with the one who had spoken.

"I can't imagine who would do this..." Hans muttered, feigning shock, but in his evil swampy eyes I could see the laughter, and hear his taunting and feel the way he planned to punish me for this.

The way it feels to love a bad man... But then, I only ever_ loved_ one man.


End file.
